


Moths of Smoke

by pirripipi



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Could be considered Bittersweet, Happy Ending, Hardcore platonic moxiety, I haven’t written a sad ending in my life and this won’t be my first, M/M, My guys wanting nothing but each other happiness, Specially for the dead character, There’s hetero romances on TV less intense than this platonic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirripipi/pseuds/pirripipi
Summary: The feeling of seeing and be seen. That's the deepest connection of two souls.Virgil never really understood what that meant. Not, until he met Patton.





	Moths of Smoke

He sits by his side. Watches him turn in bed, exhausted and unable to sleep. 

It’s a peaceful night outside, cold and heavy with snow. He thinks. Time doesn't work for him as it does for everyone else. He is here and there, everywhere at the same time, when the brain is quiet and calm to be lulled to sleep. Only then he is called. Only then he comes.

He feels pity for him, for his desperate turning and deep frown, but there's little he can do when the brain doesn't collaborate.  
Tries to coach him to sleep anyway, sometimes it's all it takes, most times is not. He rest his hand against his forehead, touch feather light. Sand falls from his fingers, rolls down his cheeks and dissolve into the air like smoke. 

Big blue eyes suddenly open, they are looking right at him almost like they could see. There's fear in them and he wonders what thoughts might have brought that expression. He doesn't move, waits for him to close his eyes again, but it doesn't happen.  
A hand comes to rest over his on the man's forehead, doubtful and light.

 _"What are you?"_ His voice is so thin it could be ice.

Virgil tenses, cold on his insides, and in the instant between a blink and another he disappears. Nothing but vanishing sand to tell he was there. 

Patton doesn't get to sleep that night.

▼○▼○▼

Virgil is filled with regret the following night. The man lies in bed, more exhausted than the night before he looks almost sick. There’s dark circles, deep as his own, under his eyes. There’s a frown that seems unable to go away.  
Virgil knows it’s his doing.

Still he is unsure to come close. He can sense the man restlessness and he wonders if he should do something about it. There's little he can do anyway. He is wary by nature.

Yet he sits by his side. And yet he lies his hand on his forehead again. The man doesn’t move, doesn’t miss a breath like Virgil is.  
He can feel him giving away to sleep second by second. Feels his brain go still and his breath even. Those eyes open again, deep and tired and calm.

 _"Have you come to help me sleep?"_ He asks so softly. Virgil can’t decide on answering before he is fast asleep.

▼○▼○▼

The third night he comes, aside from the thousand of nights he has come before what he has chosen to call the incident, it’s raining outside. Fat navy blue drops without wind to bend them. They echo through the empty streets outside and into the room. Weather holds no meaning for him. It lulls people to sleep, it keeps them up, it makes his job easier or more difficult and nothing else.  
Rain helps the man sleep, has him almost there but not quite as he waits for him to finish the job.

There’s a lamp on in the bedside table, with golden dim light that chases away the shadows that make Virgil look ethereal. There’s a glass of warm milk by the lamp and a plate of cookies by the milk. And between the two there’s a note.

He goes by the man’s side, rests his fingers over his closed eyes. Fine sand like air rolls from them, soft as a caress it goes through the eyelashes under the eyelids. The man’s heart beats, his chest rises and he is sound sleep. He hopes for him to have a restful night.

The note at bedside table waits.

There’s no need for Virgil to stay, he never does, doesn’t seem polite. 

The note by the bedside table waits and it reads _“To the sandman.”_ in the front. He can’t know what to expect.

 _“Hi there,_ ” it sais.

_“You’re back I see. Well not really see see, I’m guessing I’ll be asleep by now. I think._  
You gave me a good scare two nights ago when we first meet, yet again, I think I scared you too, didn’t I? Sorry. There’s no need to be scare of me, kiddo.  
I’m guessing you are the one behind my goods nights sleep, thanks for that, I really needed it.  
There’s milk and cookies for you, you’ve earned them. 

_Good night, Patton.”_

He can’t know what to do. The milk is getting colder. The cookies seem sweet. He doesn’t need the food.

He drinks the milk and eats two cookies, leaves the other two for Patton to find in the morning. Would have left a thank you message but didn’t have anything to write with.

▼○▼○▼

They don’t meet again until weeks later. Virgil comes in the dead of the night, rain falling hard and unforgiving. The room’s dark and Patton is lying by his side, his eyes wet.  
People with wet eyes won’t fall asleep easily, Virgil knows that much. He comes sit to the bedside and waits.  
As the first time he rests his hand over Patton’s forehead and as the first time he opens his eyes, they are cloudy and unfocused, but when he gets sight of him he softly smiles. Virgil doesn’t disappear this time and Patton is asleep in minutes.

▼○▼○▼

It’s a strange situation. One Virgil has never found himself into. They meet every now and then, in the few seconds that take Patton to fall asleep, he smiles at him and Virgil is yet to understand why.

Maybe that’s why by the tenth time Patton meets his eyes in the limbo of sleep he takes his hand away. It feels like the rip of fabric. It feels like a teared paper. Patton is left awake and he feels selfish because of it. 

Silence fills the room.

Then Patton is sitting up, his muscles complaining the effort, fatigue deep is his eyes yet an smile in his face. He turns to be in front of him and asks in a raspy voice:

 _“What’s the matter?”_ Virgil doesn’t know how to answer to that.

They talk. Virgil doesn’t have much to say and Patton seems to struggle for words, yet the talk.  
It’s nice. Virgil can only assume it was nice for Patton too when he asks him to come over an hour earlier next time, when he promises him more milk and cookies. Virgil doesn’t have the heart to tell him he doesn’t really need them.

It becomes an habit. Not for every day, but for every now and then. Patton will invite him in person, sometimes he will leave him a note, Virgil never invites himself. Weeks go by.

▼○▼○▼

There’s not a clear answer for the way Patton treats him. No convincing reason for him to smile when he is delaying his rest and to feed him when he has no need for food. Weeks have turned into months and Virgil has found himself unable to come upon a clear answer to the wonderful nonsense that Patton is.

 _“Because I like you, kiddo.”_ He used to tell him.

 _“Because we are friends, Virgil.”_ He tells him now.

He still doesn’t understand, he may never will, but he is glad nevertheless.

▼○▼○▼

_“What’s your favorite sight?”_ Patton asks him once on a saturday night. Saturday nights are the nights they can share for long. Those are their nights, just for them to enjoy.

 _"I can feel the energy pulses that happen in your brain.”_ He tells him. _“The sparks that create your thoughts if not the thoughts themselves. I can sense them make your heart move and your lungs breath. I can see the complexity of life in you as in any other creature. Burning bright in a world that is in its majority liveless"_ Patton doesn’t seems bored so he continuous. _"I visit each of you each night and day, as much as you need me, any time you call for me."_ He is not use to think about this, much less to talk about it to a willing ear. _"And each time I marvel. As there's nothing more beautiful than beholding life happening."_

Patton’s laugh is musical and kind as he leans against him.

_"I was going to say that mine are sunsets."_

_"Well, the sun is the core of life."_ It makes him laugh again, shake his head like he thinks he is unbelievable and for Virgil that’s enough.

▼○▼○▼

_“I wonder sometimes, you know. What must it feel to be like you.”_

Virgil has no answer to that question. Neither he says that he wonders too, what must it feel to be like Patton.

▼○▼○▼

_"What is that keeps you awake?"_ He asks on a clear night. Moonlight fills the room. He turns towards Patton in bed _"I mean, you don't have to tell me of course, I've just been wondering... Forget I said anything."_

Patton turns to him before he can go away, his eyes deep and tired and his smile stained. _"I wouldn't mind telling you, kiddo, I'm just not sure I have an answer."_

Heavy silence follows that, thick and cold. With a hand on Virgil’s hand he tells him: _"Knowing that I'll have to wake the next day, maybe."_

Virgil doesn't have anything to answer to that. Welcomes Patton in his arms as he helps him fall asleep.

▼○▼○▼

He never cared for the TV before. He’ve seen people lying in front of it, half asleep under it’s unnatural light. Sometimes on someone else’s arms, sometimes on their own. He’d heard people laugh at it and cry with it and jump and scream, but he never stayed long enough to understand what was all about.

Now, sat down on Patton’s couch, pizza leftovers forgotten at the table and a fluffy blanket to cover them both, he thinks he gets it.

 _“That’s it?! That’s how it ends?!”_ He turns to Patton with a hint of desperation in his eyes, like he hopes somehow he’ll have some explanation.

 _“Well, I’m afraid so kiddo.”_ He tells him as kind as he can, one hand coming to rest on Virgil shoulders. _“It’s kind of a bittersweet ending.”_

That’s not enough for Virgil.

 _“He just wanted his home back! He got so far and now he’s just-”_ Virgil has to stan then, points at the TV accusingly. _“It’s not fair!”_

Patton just looks at him sadly. Unsure of what to do he stands too, helds Virgil by the shoulders and brings him back into the couch.

 _“Why don’t I show you my favourite movie next.”_ He smiles at Virgil like he would smile to a child and it’s a bit infuriating. With his arms crossed tight over his chest Virgil falls against the back of the couch.

 _“Will it be bitter sweet too?”_ He asks with a hint of vennon.

_“Virgil, it’s like you didn’t knew me. You’re going to love Howl’s moving castle! Trust me.”_

And what Virgil could say? He trusted Patton.

▼○▼○▼

_“I guess I just feel… lonely.”_ He confesses him months later. _“Everyone is so far away, I miss them. I miss hanging out with them and I miss our inside jokes. I miss hugging and laughing.”_ He pauses, not looking at him. The night is cloudy yet not cold. _“I miss their company. Do you ever feel that way?”_

 _“I’m everywhere and nowhere every time all the time.”_ He simply answers because it’s true. Patton is not impressed, waits for him to continue and he wonders how could he learn to read him so well so quickly. _“I guess I do.”_ He sighs. _“Sometimes.”_

▼○▼○▼

Sunday nights are always hard for Patton. He leaves him to deal with them alone as he asked him to, doesn’t come until he is called in.  
Tonight is different. Patton’s room looks tidier and he is sitting by the bed, a book in his hands. He is half asleep with his glasses still on.

Virgil takes the book from him and leaves it on the bedside.

 _“Your neck will hurt if you sleep like that.”_ He tells him quietly, not sure if he’ll be able to hear him.

 _“I left my job.”_ He answers him. _“It was not worth it. I’ll find something better.”_

_“I know you will.”_

▼○▼○▼

_“Isn’t there a law against this?”_ It’s another Saturday night without moon, Virgil is resting his head on Patton’s lap, there’s a movie in the TV. Patton is worried. He cares Virgil’s hair with one hand and with the other fixes his glasses, his has frowed and his lips are settle on a thin line.

 _“What do you mean?”_ Virgil asks. The film is interesting and it takes effort for him to look away.

 _“Are we allowed to hang out like this?”_ He says. Virgil is standing before a second has the time to tick by.

 _“You don’t want to hang any more?”_ He asks, not accusatory but wary. Not angry but sad.

_“No! Of course not, kiddo. What I mean is, is this legal? Isn’t there some kind of law we are breaking?”_

_“There’s no laws for me but the ones I built on my own.”_ He can hear Patton’s gears as they move in his head, the doubt in his voice and concern in his eyes.

 _“What if you decided to stop?”_ It catches Virgil off guard, has never thought about it. The movie that plays in the background in finishing now and he will regret not catching the end latter.

 _“Someone would take my place.”_ He finally says. He is not sure but he is certain.

▼○▼○▼

Patton’s head in his lap that night. He’s looking at him in the eyes with a wide smile in his face and his hands running wild as he talks.

_"And then we met. And well, you should’ve been there, Virgil, he was so serious and straightforward, I thought he hated me at first, really.”_

_“Imposible.”_ Virgil says and Patton slaps him softly on his forearm.

 _“I’m serious, Virgil.”_ He continuous with a smile. _“He went into the room throwing big words like he owned the place, but then the meeting was over and he was so… nice.”_ There’s not missing the dream like look in his eyes. _“Just so nice, it was quite the contrast.”_

 _"Is he handsome?”_ Vigil simply asks.

Patton laughs breathlessly, looks at him with stars in his eyes.

_"Like you couldn't imagine."_

Virgil smiles back at him, all sharp shiny fangs and shadows.

_"Tell me everything."_

▼○▼○▼

Saturday nights are not reserved only for them anymore. Sometimes they’ll be for Patton and Logan, sometimes they’ll be for Patton and friends.

There are other days for Virgil and him, evenings spent on each other company, dinners enjoyed together and afternoons by the beach.

Things change and that’s ok. Things change and they’ll be fine.

▼○▼○▼

He is called on a different room one night. Finds Patton curled on someone’s arms, content and calm. The man he can only assume is Logan is not quite asleep yet, he is up on one elbow, looking down at Patton with the softest looks in his eyes, one thumb drawing circles over Patton’s hand.

He can’t see Virgil as he rests his hand on Patton’s eyes, nor can he feel him when he rest his hand on his forehead as well, coaching him too to sleep.

▼○▼○▼

_"So... Logan?"_ It’s not the best way to start a conversation, nor his tone is a nonchalant as he wanted it to be. He thinks he should add more, but can’t really find the words to do so.

Patton falls dead silent, french frie half way into his mouth and eyes wide open. The woman in the speakers is singing a love song.

 _"Does he make you happy?"_ He finally adds. He doesn’t want to pry but he worries sometimes, worries even more when Patton doesn’t talk to him.

 _"Yes."_ His eyes soften and his posture relax. He eats his french frie while he remembers, Virgil is not sure what, and he lets his head fall on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil relaxes too.

 _“Good.”_ He says, because that’s what only matters. He cares Patton’s hair and for some time no one says anything.

▼○▼○▼

_“I took him to Hayden Planetarium.”_ Patton tells him. He is been keeping his hair shorter than usual and the new color really brings out his freckles. _“You should have seen his eyes light up. I mean, he is been there a thousand at least, but I think it was the intention what touched his heart.”_ Virgil just hums as he paints yet another one of Patton’s fingers. _“It was really nice.”_

 _“So… first year anniversary and you went to the planetarium?”_ He says without looking up, his own nails painted blue and gold.

_“And Polare Maastricht after that.”_

_“I may not know how an anniversary goes, but aren’t you supposed to go get dinner somewhere fancy? Bring some flowers? Go stop him from boarding a plane?”_ There’s a smile in his voice Patton has learnt to detect.

 _“You won’t let me live that romcom marathon down ever, will you?”_ Virgil’s laugh is short and sharp yet brings a smile to Patton’s lips. _“We did get dinner after, I was dying to try that restaurant but didn’t have any luck with reservations last time we tried. He also got me tickets to Manoel Theatre.”_ Virgil nods as he talks. _He didn’t stop a plane, tho, should I be disappointed?”_

 _“Absolutely”_ The tune at the radio turns to jazz. _“Did he brought home his weight in books again?”_

Patton shrugs to the best of his ability.

_“He says he likes the smell of new books.”_

_“He is a dork.”_ Virgil says with a disveliebing smile. Patton’s nails are finished beautifully.

 _“He absolutely is.”_ Patton answers with his own soft smile.

▼○▼○▼

_"How about you?"_ Their path is unhurried, their voices are low, Patton’s hand on Virgil’s hand and his phone on his ear to make it look like he is calling someone. The park is made of dark green trees and black sky, of yellow street lights and varely and handful of stars. The night is warm.

 _"How about me?"_ Virgil looks almost uncorporeal under the dim lights. Like something that shouldn’t be held still in time.

 _"Are you all alone?"_ Patton asks. His eyes are soft but his face is serious, his grip turns stronger yet reassuring. He looks like something Virgil could have dreamed if he dreamed at all. 

_"Only out of choice."_

_"So there's more like you?"_ He’s been fearing, that maybe Virgil would be utterly alone.

 _"There's no one like me. But there's different 'people' like me as to say."_ He begins reluctantly, like he begins every story that talks about him. _"There's this guy I know. Well not know know, it may not seem like it bc of my charming personality but I'm not as good with people when they are awake."_

 _"I wouldn't be so sure,”_ Patton retorts unfaced. _“I rather like you and I'm very much awake."_

_"Yes you are." _He says like he can’t quite believe it. The yellow lights play over Patton’s features in a magical dance and he wonders if he has any clue of how amazing he is.__

___"Have you guys ever talked?”_ He asks before Virgil has time to tell him._ _

___"Oh, shit, no. I've seen him, tho, he is been around for quite some time. He helps create dreams so I'm bound to meet him every now and then."_ Patton waits, a shine in his eyes that makes Virgil want to continue. _"He seems... Loud. Way over the top, to be honest. I used to find him very annoying... but not anymore I guess."__ _

___"Is he handsome?”_ Virgil snorts and Patton smiles._ _

___"He has a dazzling smile like no one I've ever seen. He dresses so... Regal, all golden and red and white. It's... Charming, I guess.”_ _ _

___"Well, Virgil, if that isn’t a crush."_ Patton laughs._ _

___"Shut up."_ There’s no anger in it. The keep walking, go around the pond and among the trees and only when the clock strikes midnight they go home._ _

__

____

▼○▼○▼

It’s a small wedding in a smaller avenue. Private and cozy. There’s food and sweets and flowers, pink and white and purple and blue. There’s light and there’s music and there’s Patton, beautiful as ever, radiant as he walks toward the altar by the hand of his older sister. Logan awaits for him there, his father by his side, looking as entranced as he should.

There’s a reserved chair, empty for everyone but Patton, at the very front. It’s placed between Logan’s mother and Patton’s younger sister and in it’s back there’s a sign that asks anyone not to sit on it. He watches Logan and Patton kiss for the first time sat in that chair. Cheers knowing only Patton will hear him.

▼○▼○▼

There’s nights when he sends Logan to sleep first, then talks to Patton. They’ll go together to the living room, sometimes to the garden Patton and Logan are still learning how to take care of, and chat.

He likes the new house. Likes the pictures hanging on the walls and the fireplace. Likes how happy Patton is in there.

That night Patton picks up a package on their way outside. Virgil is holding the tea. It’s a midsummer night with no clouds and a full moon.

 _“What’s that?”_ Virgil asks as they sit, he gives Patton his mug and keeps his between his hands. He is not cold but he likes the feeling. Patton doesn’t answer immediately, let’s his tea cool in front of him as he looks around, some flowers are surviving. The crickets sing as Virgil waits.

 _“A present.”_ Patton says and gives it to him. Is not thick nor heavy, tied with a ribbon and decorated with glittery stars.

 _“I can’t own things Patton.”_ Virgil says bewildered.

_“That’s ok, I’ll keep it for you.”_

_“I don’t think that’s how pressents work.”_ But he opens it nevertheless with careful hands. 

Under the paper there’s a black box and into the box there’s drawings. Three in total, drawn on thick paper. He stares at them and they stare at him. The crickets keep singing and Virgil’s heart fills with emotion.

The smallest one is a portrait. His portrait. Fine details made by pencil, hair shaken by an non-existent air, every lock of hair alive on itself, deep shadows under his eyes, lighter ones framing his nose. Blank empty eyes that somehow manage to express emotion. He looks alive, looks real and corporeal.

He can’t see Patton looks as he traces his fingers over the paper, can’t see the hint of nervousness in his eyes.

The heaviest one is of Patton and him, both their backs turned to the observer. It’s a rainy day made of blues and greens and browns as they walk around the watercolor park, together under the same umbrella, hands laced and shoulders touching. He is more like a shadow in this one, edges blending with the background while Patton remains sharp and clear. The umbrella is soft pink.

Each drawing he places it back in the box, a care in the gesture he reserves to very little things.

The last one is the biggest. Sharp tick lines and vibrant colors. He is sat in Patton’s old living room, a slice of pizza in his hand, the other nowhere to be seen. He is laughing, there’s comic lines to show so. He remembers that evening even if he can’t remember what they were seeing that made him laugh in the first place. His eyes are shining, greys and blues and blacks and whites that make them spark in wonder. His sharp teeth are showing, animalistic in they own account, yet he doesn’t look menacing. He looks overjoyed. 

He wonders, is this how Patton sees him?

 _“Did you?”_ He can’t turn his eyes away, can’t help his fingers to go over the drawings.

_“Oh no, no. I have not the talent for that. I commissioned them.”_

_“But how?”_ He has to look at Patton then, all confusión and dazzle.

_“Being really descriptive. Did you know you look very alike to Caius Griffin? Because you do.”_

He stands. Abruptly. Goes to Patton in three strong precise steps and hugs him.

 _“I…”_ He begins and chokes, buries his face against his shoulder at lack of any words.

 _“I’ll keep them for you. I was thinking of hanging them around the house. Maybe by the one of the book selfs, what do you think?”_ He tells him softly, one hand stroking his back, the other at his hair.

 _“How are you going to explain it to Logan?”_ He mutters.

 _“I’ll tell him the truth-ish”_ Virgil tenses. Hates lies. Hates Patton lying because of him. _“It’s fine, trust me.”_ He says. He trusts him.

▼○▼○▼

The room is cream yellow, wide and beautiful. There’s drawings in the wall and toys around the floor, two twin beds with two twin girls in them.

In between them sits Patton. He looks tired, more tired than ever, every little wrinkle, every age-line shines under the golden light of the bedside lamp. There was a book in his lap that now lies on the floor.

He puts the girls to sleep then goes sit by Patton side.

 _“Hey.”_ Patton greets him, eyes only half open. 

_“Hey. It’s been long.”_ Virgil says.

_“I thought time held no meaning for you.”_

_“Still it’s been long.”_ They smile to each other and Patton rest his head on Virgil shoulder. _“They are wonderful.”_ One of the girls snores softly as she sleeps, the other one rests on her belly and drolls on the pillow.

Patton smile couldn’t be brighter.

 _“Yes they are.”_ He whispers. _“They are still getting use to Logan, but it’s all a matter of time.”_ Virgil can’t tell what’s on Patton’s as he looks away, can’t offer any advice to make his frown lessen, he can just hug his shoulders and rub his arm. _“I wish they could meet you.”_ He sighs, eyes close and strength leaving his body.

Virgil covers Patton’s eyes with his free hand as to not lose hold of him. 

_“One day,”_ He says even if Patton can’t hear him. _“later than sooner.”_

The door opens then.  
He watches Logan come in, equally tired. Sees his eyes brighten and the most tender smile come to his lips. He walks silently to Patton’s side, goes by Virgil without feeling him.

 _“Patton, dear, it’s late.”_ He shakes him awake softly, grabs his hand and helps him up. Patton mumbles something unintelligible yet Logan answers anyway. _“They’ll be fine. You need to rest.”_ And with that they leave.

Virgil stays. Goes to one of the beds and picks up a stuffed dog from the floor. It’s soft and squishy and smells faintly like cotton candy. He leaves it at the girl’s side. Trucks the other one in bed and leaves.

▼○▼○▼

_“I want you to be their godfather.”_ He tells him on their way back from the theater. It’s winter and the air is freezing. Patton’s cheeks are red.

 _“Wha- me?”_ He trips over the ice, has to grab Patton’s arm to not fall on his butt. They almost go down together. _“Patton I can’t-”_ He adds as soon as he is to his feet.

 _“I know. Still, you are family to me and I want you to be their family too.”_ There’s such conviction in his voice, so much determination it leaves Virgil breathless. _“Even if it’s just to my eyes.”_

Virgil doesn’t cry, never does, but his heart feels strangled and words get tangled in his tongle. The street is empty and so he hugs Patton, clings to him as to show how grateful he is.  
And Patton. Patton understands.

▼○▼○▼

It’s a lazy spring afternoon, sunny but not really warm. Virgil and Logan are both reading outside back to back so Logan won’t notice the pages of Virgil’s book move, Patton hums as he tends the flowers.  
Diana and Katia have been in college a year already and the house still feels too quiet without them.

 _“The peonies are coming pretty well these year,”_ Patton says to no one in particular. _“maybe I’m finally getting a grip on gardening.”_

 _“Patton.”_ They both answer not even looking up. _“They are marigolds.”_

▼○▼○▼

The garden is still there, vibrant green and multicolor flowers. Cared as the first day. Better than the first day, thankfully.  
Patton is still there, trembling hands and tired sight. Snow white hair and cracking voice. And the same beautiful smile.

 _"Sometimes a get very sad.”_ He tells him in that garden one afternoon. His smile is there, but broken and blue. How he wishes he could fix it. _“I think how you've been here way before me. How the day I'll go you'll still be here."_ His hand tightens over Virgil’s and his heart sinks, heavy in his chest _"I hate the idea of leaving you behind."_

 _"I'll miss you."_ Virgil tells him since it’s the truth. Takes a lock of Patton’s long hair a trucks it behind his ear. He settles a hand over his and looks him in the eyes.

 _"Don't,”_ Patton tells him. _“I’d hate knowing I made you sad."_

 _"I won’t be able to not to."_ Virgil answers. _"It's fine. Your friendship is worth that and more."_

▼○▼○▼

It’s a small funeral in a smaller chapel. Private and heartbreaking. There’s no food and no sweets, only flowers, white and violet and the softest blue. And then there's Patton, cold and immobile.  
Logan is immobile too, unable to stand to give his last goodbye, unable to do anything but to hold to his daughters hands, one at each side of him.

Virgil knows he has not been invited, yet he stands there, a hand resting softly over Diana’s shoulder. He can't bring himself to give his last goodbye neither, knowing Patton won't hear it.

Logan doesn't call for him that night, yet he goes anyway. He is sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and a scratch book on his lap. Virgil sits by his side, rest a hand over Logan's free one and talks to him.

 _“I’m sorry for your loss._ ” He tells him first, he didn't have the chance at the funeral. _“I’m sorry you have to be going through this. I wish I could do something to erase your pain.”_ He tells him next despite knowing it won't be heard. Logan looks older than he remembered, now in the gloom of the room every age-line is showing and they all talk about sadness. His hair is grey and his eyes are red and puffy, dry with no more tears left to cry. His hands tremble as he goes through the pages. 

His older grandchildren made it for them on Christmas, Virgil knows because he was there. There's pictures of their trip to Oporto, them drinking wine and riding the funicular. There's pictures of new year's eve two years ago and drawings of each grandchild. There's pictures of Patton’s 87 birthday, of Logan's and Patton's anniversary. There's little golden stars glued the best they could in every page and badly drawn hearts.  
There's a portrait of Virgil. A newer one Patton gifted him just months ago. He has not changed one bit.

He hears Logan sob and feels his heart die a bit. He holds his hand tighter, so much Logan looks at it for a second, eyebrows frowned and lips thin.  
He can't see him, he shouldn't feel him either. 

It lasts only a moment. Turns back to the scratchbook and Virgil wonders how does he manage to bear the pain. 

Virgil stays with him all night long, more out of his own benefit than Logan's, he knows. Only as the sun is rising he is able to bring Logan his rest.

Logan's funeral is two weeks later, and as with Patton's Virgil is there uninvited.

▼○▼○▼

It’s been a month and a half. Vigil has been counting the days without meaning to. Finds himself going back to the house day after day, to take care of the family that can’t know of him. No one has taken down his drawings from the walls.

As he sends Patton’s youngest grandchild to sleep he feels a hand rest on his shoulder. He freezes, then turns.

 _“How are they doing?”_ He asks him without stop looking as his grandchild.

 _"Patton?"_ Virgil says. Perplex. _“They are doing fine.”_ He pauses again before saying. _“They’ll be fine.”_

 _“And how are you doing?”_ Patton asks again. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t find the words. Patton continuous. _"I thought you might use some help."_ He tells him, smaches his arm and adds without bitterness in his voice. _"You are a sly son of a biscuit, you could have told me what was gonna happen after if you already knew."_

For the first time Virgil smiles, looks at him like he can’t believe his luck, like he can’t believe he is there.

 _"I didn't want to ruin the surprise."_ He says.

_"Of course you didn't."_

_"Also…”_ He tentatively adds. _“I didn't want to pressure you. You don't need to do any of these, Patton, this is my job, you could go back there, be with the rest."_ He means it. He’ll miss him.

 _"I know I don't need to. I don't need to do anything, I've been told.”_ He cheerfully says. _“I want to, you know me-"_

 _"You are always ready to help a friend."_ Virgil finishes, smiling to himself. Patton giggles. _"How is Logan?"_

 _"Oh you know him, he is having his fun learning about the secrets of the universe.”_ He tells him as they move to a different place, a different town, a different country. _“He is delighted to be meeting you, now that he knows that you are not just a recurrent dream."_

 _"I'd love too. It’s about time anyway."_ He’s sincere. He is glad too, that even now that Patton is truly free to do as he pleases, he still chooses him. It’s like things haven’t change. Patton can’t shut about the new place. About the plans he has, with him and with Logan, with old friends he can’t wait to visit and new ones he is planning to make. He’s always been the social type.

 _"I've meet a dazzling fella, by the way."_ He says.

 _"The place it’s full of them."_ He answers, but he knows that glimpse on Patton’s eyes.

_"Yeah, but this one looked rather familiar. Regal clothes, dazzling smile and a loud personality. He said he makes dreams, maybe it rings a bell?"_

_"Patton have mercy of me."_ And there it is the sing song laugh he is been missing.

 _"You should talk to him.”_ He say. _“He seemed quite eager when I told him I knew you."_ And that is truly a surprise. 

_"I'll... Think about it."_

_"Take your time, of that we have a lot."_

**Author's Note:**

> Patton’s favourite film is my favourite film bc I’m the author and I say so.
> 
> Look, I know Polare Maastricht is in Holland and Hayden planetarium in New York but I liked their aesthetic so they share a city in this fic.  
> Also there’s no one famous called Caius Griffin, I just randomly generate it for comedy purposes.
> 
> You can bet I cried writing Patton’s funeral and if I had to go through that so do you.
> 
> Keep in mind English is not my first language and I did my best


End file.
